The Only Option Read Online Free Page B

frequent stopping point for travelers and my best chance at finding one. I saw you, decided to chat.”
    “Chat,” Rochus repeated slowly. “You didn't really waste time chatting.”
    The pink in Tilo's cheeks darkened to red, but he didn't look embarrassed as much as ashamed. The small knot of dread in Rochus's stomach grew larger and sprouted thorns. “You were attractive. I thought, why not see what happens, if…”
    “If you could stand to make yourself fuck a half-dead on the chance it was necessary to coax cooperation from your new, reluctant husband,” Rochus finished.
    “That wasn't—”
    Rochus didn't want to hear it. “You must have known when you heard my name that I was your intended victim.”
    Tilo nodded jerkily, more miserable than ever.
    “Hoping to entice cooperation before the vows were even spoken?” Rochus spat out, the thorns in his stomach large and sharp, spreading throughout his body, leaving a crushing ache in his chest. Disappointment, regret, and bitterness ran through him like poison. “Whored yourself out to your husband-to-be then disappeared only to leave me feeling the fool upon my arrival here.”
    “It wasn't—”
    Rochus barreled on, refusing to be interrupted by whatever pathetic excuse or justification Tilo contrived. “You forgot one little thing in all your scheming, little kit: all I have to do is marry you. A few vows and some signed papers are all that is required. I'm under no obligation to go anywhere with you.”
    Tilo jerked, the flush draining from his cheeks, leaving him looking like a man who'd been viciously backhanded by someone he trusted. Tears ran down his cheeks, and the flames in the room went out as a rough, ragged sob echoed through it in the moment before he fled, the door hanging open in his wake.
    Leaving Rochus feeling like the cheerless half-dead bastard everyone accused him of being. Tilo was the one forcing a marriage, the one who'd…
    Rochus swallowed against the sour scrape of bile in his throat. Only an hour ago, thinking of Tilo and the night they'd spent together had brought a smile, warmed him as well as any fire. Now he just felt sick, angry enough to slam his fist through a wall. He'd thought the attraction mutual, had thought that perhaps, for once, the goddess was smiling down upon him, or that he'd simply gotten lucky. Instead he'd been the victim of his own damned ego and spent the night fucking somebody who'd never really wanted him. Fucked someone so desperate for help he'd been willing to spread for it.
    And instead of acting his age about the situation, Rochus had piled cruelty on top of the whole mess.
    He sighed and strode into to his bedroom, stripped off his clothes beside the bed, then washed up at the bowl nearby before crawling beneath the blankets. Across the room, firelight flickered softly, making the shadows dance. Hunger gnawed at Rochus, but he ignored it, too sick at heart to feel like drinking.
    There was simply no help for it. He could go to Irmhild and tell her all that Tilo had told him, but clearly the problem in Tilo's territory had been going on long enough. Whatever game was in play, better to deal with the more pressing problem and then sort out the underhanded workings behind it.
    And after his recent behavior, the very least he could do was help, instead of fobbing the matter off on Irmhild.
    He'd always known he'd be dragged to the marriage altar eventually. Irmhild was old-fashioned that way, but he'd hoped the situation would be a bit more pleasant than a desperate dragon who thought he had no other options. Fool Rochus for thinking that someone so beautiful, intriguing, and eager would truly want him. The way Tilo had offered up his own blood should have been the first clue; nobody did that. People didn't offer blood unless they wanted something. If Rochus had been thinking clearly—thinking at all—he'd have realized something was wrong. Instead he'd ignored his own advice and listened only to his